


Skipping Stones

by quinnfanderson



Category: Glee
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinnfanderson/pseuds/quinnfanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson is twenty-years-old. He was diagnosed with Depression when he was a freshman in high school. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to stop feeling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is my first fic that I have posted, and I'm looking forward to this little multi-chapter adventure with our boys!

Blaine Anderson is twenty-years-old. He was diagnosed with Depression when he was a freshman in high school. To be accurate, and to match his medical record, he had Major Depressive Disorder. He saw a therapist who he confided in and he was prescribed medication. This went on for a year.

A year until the bullying got so bad he had to transfer schools. He was beaten so badly after a Sadie Hawkins dance that he ended up in a coma. He was then transferred to Dalton Academy for the rest of his high school career.

There, he shined. He joined the Warblers, the school’s acapella group, where he eventually became its leader. He dated a boy named Sebastian, who he explored all of his firsts with. By the time he was a Senior in high school, he was off his medication and had reduced his sessions with his therapist.

Sebastian and Blaine broke up the summer after graduation. Blaine was going to UCLA for college, and they weren’t in love. The distance wasn’t worth it.

Now, he is almost in his third year of college. He’s excelling, but not meeting his own standards. He’s maintained a decent GPA – 3.8 , although he went in with hopes of graduating with a perfect GPA. That was slowly, but easily, crushed by a course that’s purpose was to weed out the weak. He ended up with a B- in it, and still felt like a failure.

While he has a few friends, he’s fairly introverted. When he first came to school, he arrived bright-eyed and eager to join clubs both within his Music department and school.

None of that ever happened, of course. And now he was just wasting away… or so he felt.

Five minutes earlier, Blaine had walked into his small one-bedroom apartment with high hopes for the night. He planned to get some song writing done and perhaps even his dishes that had been sitting there for three days.

Instead, he was staring outside his window. The blinds were open just enough for slivers of light to stream in, and for him to see a portion of the freeway that rose off the ground, held up by extremely thick cement pillars. These types of highways were common in Los Angeles, but that isn’t what he was thinking about.

Blaine was wondering how badly it would hurt to jump off. It had to be at least a fifty-foot drop if not more. He knew his life would end—there’s no way he’d survive that fall. But he didn’t want to feel the pain. He’d rather drift off and never wake up.

But the fall would be much more sudden and death would certain. With his luck, he’d end up in the hospital getting his stomach pumped if he downed a bottle of sleeping pulls. He’d survive, which is the last thing he wanted to do.  
Blaine wondered what everyone’s reactions would be to his death. Cooper would probably be upset at first, as would his wife and kids. He imagines Cooper having to tell his nieces that they’d never see Blaine again. It almost makes him think twice. His parents maybe regret how they treated him as a teenager—as someone who was disturbed and no longer their son.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to stop feeling. 

Blaine clenched his fists, willing himself to stay put and not rush to the bathroom where the razors were. His eyes closed as the vision of the scars that were already on his skin flashed before his eyes. Those were enough to keep anyone from wanting to get close to him, but fresh wounds would surely stop any men from getting intimate with him.

Not that he should even be worried about that right now.

He ran his fingers through his curly hair, which he hadn’t styled with gel as he normally would for about two weeks now, and pulled, letting out a groan of frustration. 

He needed to feel better now, even if it meant feeling terrible later. So he ran to what he knew would achieve that the quickest.

The tequila bottle. 

It was still fairly full, much to his relief. Blaine filled a glass with what was probably two shots worth and threw it back. He grimaced and griped the counter. He absolutely hated the taste and the burning sensation, but Blaine knew the weightlessness that was to come. His stomach filled with butterflies with anticipation of that feeling. 

He took a sip out of the bottle before filling his glass again.

He threw it back.

And again.

One more time.

The sharp edges were beginning to get fuzzy and the tension in his chest was going away.

Air! Blaine needed air. He didn’t grab a jacket because it was pretty warm outside. California was heating up as it approached Summer. He did make sure he had his wallet and keys, though.

The world outside felt weird. He felt disconnected; like he was floating. He spun around in a circle, the world blurring around him. He could feel the air on his skin and his skin slightly damp.

Blaine Anderson did his best to appear sober as he walked down the street, the sun not yet set but not high in the sky. He could taste the Tequila in his mouth and curses himself for not brushing his teeth before he left. Surely someone will smell it on his breath, but he could always say he had a drink at dinner.

He finally approaches the nearest coffee shop, swings open the door and stands in line. Staggers, is more like it, but he rests his hand on a shelf that holds their newest merchandise, and manages to appear steady. At least he likes to think so. There are only two people before him, and more than one barista behind the counter so it should move quickly.

Before he knows it, it’s his turn to order. He steps up closer to the counter and asks, “Can I get a grande drip, please?” Even in his slightly drunken state, he has manners.

The barista, who has a nametag on but Blaine can’t focus on long enough to read, pauses for a second. His mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but then it closes. He just nods.

“Cool,” Blaine says. He reaches into his wallet for his debit card, ready to hand it to Mr. Barista.

“That’ll be $2.50,” he says and takes the card when Blaine sticks it out further. He can smell the man and their fingers brush, making Blaine let out a giggle.

The barista raises one eyebrow at him, eying him warily.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, as he quickly swipes Blaine’s card. 

“Tickled,” is Blaine’s response. 

The blue-eyed boy, yes Blaine finally noticed his eye color, nods again and hands him back his card.

“Would you like your receipt?” he asks. 

Blaine squints and tries to make out his name. Kirk, he thinks it reads.

“Uh, no thank you…Kirk,” Blaine says. 

“Kurt,” he replies, a smirk gracing his face. Kurt’s co-worker slides the cup of coffee over to him, and Blaine grabs it.

“Thanks,” he says and makes his way over to the table where the cream and sugar is. He grabs the half-and-half and pours some in as steadily as he can. He does the same with a few sugar packets.

Little does he know, Kurt is staring at him as he watches Blaine spill the cream and sway slightly on the spot. He knows this customer is at least tipsy, given his slurring and inability to pour cream into his coffee without making a mess. Instead of helping him, he opts at keeping an eye on him.

As Blaine makes his way over to a table in the corner and sits, nearly missing the chair, he tries to figure out what exactly is going on with this man.

His curly hair is untamed and the scruff on his face has to be at least a week old. His clothes weren’t terrible, but his bowtie was crooked and his polo untucked over his what probably were once form fitting pants. Now, they hung a little loose and from what Kurt could tell, he didn’t have a belt on. His shoes had scuff marks on them.

None of that is really concerning to Kurt, as he sees a lot of poorly dressed schmucks all day, except it appears as though it’s a half-put together version of this guy. What struck Kurt the most as odd, though, were his gorgeous, but dull, hazel eyes. He looked lost when he walked in, and he looked equally confused where he sat. Kurt wondered when the last time this man smiled, because he certainly didn’t look like he had in awhile.

Kurt served several more customers while the shell of a man sat in the corner, scrolling through his phone, and sipping his coffee. 

He was taking someone’s slightly complicated order--- a non-fat latte with an extra something or other—when he saw the man take off the lid of his drink, peer inside, and frown. Kurt smiled to himself as this drunken fool realized his cup was empty.

“Excuse me!! Are you even listening?” the woman in front of him shouted.

Kurt’s head jolted back to her and he blinked rapidly. He was faced with an irate Hispanic woman, one hand on hips and the other pointing at him. She was in a tight red dress, which, while it accentuated her figure, was hardly Starbucks appropriate, and Kurt realized he was a little afraid of this tiny woman.

“Yes, yes, sorry m’am. Could you repeat that?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes, mumbles something, but does so, and he makes her drink without any more trouble.

“That guy over there reeks of alcohol. Can you do something about that?” she asks, her eyes narrowing. When did she return? Kurt could have sworn she walked out the door.

“Umm…” he utters as he glances over at Blaine. Their eyes meet briefly and Kurt’s heart rate quickens.

“He could be homeless,” she says with disgust and a flick of the wrist in his direction. As if homeless is the worst thing someone could be, Kurt thought.

“We’ll take care of it m’am. Don’t worry,” Kurt manages to get out through gritted teeth, and focus entirely on the man.

She goes to sit on a couch next to who he assumes is a friend and her kids, while Kurt returns behind the counter.

He fills up another cup with coffee, and before he knows what he’s doing, he sets it on the man’s table.

It takes a few seconds for him to realize what happened, given his slow reaction time, but eventually Blaine glances up once he realizes where the sudden thud came from.

Blaine looks up at Kurt through his impossibly long eyelashes. His eyes are unfocused and bloodshot red. Kurt notices the bags under his eyes, and the dark circles that stick out even on olive skin. 

“What is this?” Blaine asks, shaking Kurt out of his thoughts.

Kurt wraps his arms around himself, although he isn’t sure what he’s protecting himself from. He stares at a small sugar spill on the ground – he’ll have to clean that up.

“You seem like you need some more coffee. You know, to sober up.”

“I’m….I’m not drunk,” Blaine slightly slurs, his breath heavy with alcohol.

Kurt lets out a high-pitched laugh and rolls his eyes, “You can smell the alcohol off you from several miles away, Blaine.”

Huh. Blaine liked how he said his name. It was firm and comforting. Almost like someone who cared.

“How do you know what my name is?” Blaine questions, his eyebrows furrowing adorably. No, not adorably Kurt. He’s a drunk, clearly.

“Your card. Look, do you need me to call a cab? An uber maybe?” Kurt questions, pulling his cell phone out the pocket on his apron and opening the Uber app.  
“I…I mean, it doesn’t seem like your homeless despite this look you have going on,” Kurt adds.

Blaine chuckles, “No, I’m fine thanks. I don’t live too far.”

Kurt nods. He was about to turn around and let it go, but the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t let him. The woman had left, probably upset that he didn’t kick Blaine out, and the place was otherwise empty.

Kurt pulled out a chair and sat. He locked his phone with the click of a button and set it down on the table.

“So what brings you to LA?” Kurt asks.

Blaine stares, as if trying to figure out why this person is asking him this question. He’d rather not talk to anyone, especially nosey people like this guy. But he had nowhere to go, so he may as well humor him.

“School. That it’s far from the hell-hole I grew up in,” he answers.

Someone sets a drink in front of Kurt, who mutters a thanks and then returns his attention to Blaine.

“And where is that?”

Blaine takes a sip of his coffee and swallows. He licks any remnants of coffee off hips lips and Kurt pretends not to notice.

“Ohio.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. Of course. 

“Me too! I’m from Lima. You?”

Blaine smiles, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. Kurt can see the start of lines where this guy’s eyes crinkled at one point in time.

“Westerville. Small world, huh?” Westerville was about two hours from where Kurt grew up. He almost went to a private school there, after being sexually harassed by a football player.

“Indeed. And what brings you to this Starbucks? You’re clearly not studying since you have no papers or laptop with you,” Kurt inquires while he plays with the edge of the cardboard sleeve. He picks until the layers separate, and then he flicks it back and forth.

Blaine’s eyes drop to Kurt’s hands, his actions proving to be distraction.

“Definitely not studying. Just… I needed to get out. Of my apartment, that is. I…I felt like I was suffocating. I needed to be around people,” Blaine says.

“Are… are you okay?” Kurt asks. What a stupid question, though. 

“Uh… that depends on what your definition of okay is. I’m alive. I’m breathing. I’m living in a city so many wish they could. I can pay my bills. I can feed myself. I’m getting an amazing education. I have so many opportunities…”

“But?” Kurt asks knowingly. He can tell something is off. Something isn’t right with this man, and it’s making him nervous.

“But….nothing. I’m fine,” he says, a tone of finality in his voice.

Kurt looked at him while he took a sip of his drink, thankfully still hot. He could let it go, chalk it up to a bad night for the stranger and go back to work. Or, he could push him for more information. He didn’t want to upset Blaine more, but he seemed so beaten down. So…. nearly hopeless.

It reminded him of himself in high school, only without the alcohol to put a band-aid on it. This man’s spirit was broken, much like the bullies did to Kurt, and he wanted to find out how it happened. Were their stories similar? Was Blaine carrying painful memories with him? Did something remind him of his past?

“Then tell me this,” Kurt starts, leaning against the table, “why did you come into a coffee shop at nearly seven at night drunk off your ass? And don’t even try to tell me you’re not drunk, Blaine.”

“Why would you even care?” Blaine challenges, just as his elbows that he had been resting on, slip off the edge of the table. He leans back in his chair and stares out the window. Kurt sees his jaw clench, and he wants nothing more than to cup this man’s face, stroke his thumb across his cheek, and get rid of that tension. 

“Because I know what it feels like to be hurting and be alone,” he says instead and bites down hard on his bottom lip.

Blaine turns back to Kurt, their eyes meeting for the second time that night.

“Well, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he says and starts to get up out of his chair. It was time to walk back home, although in the dark. He’ll be fine though, considering the area is pretty safe and busy even at night. Blaine walks past Kurt at the table, towards the door.

Kurt turns in his chair so quickly his neck protests with a shooting, tingling pain. He rubs it and says, “No…wait… let me call you a car.”

Blaine shakes his head. 

“I’m fine, but thanks,” he replies and pushes the door open.

Before Kurt can respond, he’s gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine groans at the sound of his alarm going off. He had somehow made it home and in bed safely, all without throwing his guts up.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Oh, right, he should turn off his alarm. He blindly reaches for his nightstand, only to come up empty handed.

“Ughhhh,” he lets out as he stretches his sore body and rubs his eyes. He hasn’t opened them yet, but he can tell it’s bright outside yet again. Maybe if I keep my eyes closed, the alarm will turn itself off. Maybe it isn’t morning yet. One could hope.

Unfortunately, reality was that he had a full bladder, a pounding headache, and an alarm that was still ringing.

He felt the pocket of pants that he still had on from the night before vibrate. He reached in and brought it up to his face, blinking at the brightness of both the room and the screen.

His vision was finally focused as best it could, and he saw that he had a text message from his co-worker Sebastian. Before he read it, he turned off his alarm. Finally.

Sebastian wanted to know if Blaine was coming in this morning. He had offered to cover a part of his shift.

_Yes, be there at 10:15._

The time now was 9:30 am. Far too early to be awake given the night before, but he could use the extra money. Plus, sometimes it helped to just be around people, even if it meant tutoring fellow students.

Blaine swung his legs over the side of his bed and eyed his bathroom door. He wondered if he truly needed to shower, or if he could get by with a quick teeth brushing and some deodorant. He probably should jump in quickly, though, given how much he had to drink.

His chest felt heavy, and a slight pain radiated down his arm. Blaine sighed at the now familiar pain. He clenched his teeth and made his way to the bathroom.

After his too long shower where he spent too much time just standing there and staring at the tile wall, he threw on a clean blue polo with his school’s logo on it and jeans. His hair was left ungelled, which was common these days. With one last look in the mirror, he slipped his shoes on, flip flops that old-Blaine would have recoiled at, and was out the door.

Blaine hopped in his Ford Focus, which really needed a wash inside and out, and made his way to the campus. He drove the same route that he had walked the night before. The same coffee shop, that he had only been to that one time oddly enough, was on the right. Blaine vaguely remembered a beautiful blue-eyed boy that worked behind the counter, but that could have been part of an inebriated dream knowing his luck.

The light turned green and Blaine stepped on the gas, continuing to his destination.

Blaine made it through the few students that came in needing help, mostly with essays. Reading them sometimes made him feel better about himself. How can these adults write this terribly?

A few minutes after the last student left, a paper was placed down in front of him. No, more like slammed down in front of him.

“Excuse me, can you help me with this?” the person said.

Blaine looked up and instantly recognized him as fellow Music major. They’d even worked on a few projects together in English 152, one of their early general ed requirements. He had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and a quality about him that bugged Blaine.

“Uh, Blaine? That’s your name right? I’m Adam. We’ve met before,” he said.

Adam. Right. Adam with the British accent who thought that made him more knowledgeable than anyone about Shakespeare. He spent more time trying to convince everyone that his interpretation and reading was the intended one than he did actually reading the material…. So it seemed.

“Yeah, I’m Blaine. I remember you…. What do you need help with?” Blaine questioned.

Adam pulled out the chair across from Blaine and plopped himself down, dropping his book bag beside him.

“This essay, man. It’s killer,” he replied.

Blaine internally rolled his eyes at his usage of the words man and killer. They sounded wrong coming from his mouth, as if he were trying too hard to fit in.

He picked up the paper to glance at it. It wasn’t the essay but the directions handed out by the professor.

Blaine set it back down and leaned back in his plastic chair. He felt his upper back crack as it often did, thanks to carrying the majority of his tension there and in his neck.

“I’m not sure what you want me to help you with? I mean, do you have anything written or an outline at least?” Blaine asked.

Adam interlocks his own fingers and leans forward, thumbs resting on his forehead.

“No, that’s why I came to you. This was my last resort. You’ve had this professor before….and got a great grade based on how she talks about you,” Adam says, “But anyway, you must understand what the hell she’s saying in these instructions.”

Blaine glanced them over again. They were pretty basic, suggesting that the student compare and contrast two modern novels to back up any of the classic theorists they had studied. There were a multitude of options.

“Well, I can’t help you with ideas really or write it for you. Do you have the books picked out yet?” Blaine asks.

“No, I just…where do I even start?” Adam questioned.

You pick two books, moron.

“Pick two of your favorite books. Ones you know you will enjoy analyzing. That’s basically it to start,” Blaine said with a shrug.

“Think I could get away with 50 Shades of Grey?” he chuckles.

Oh dear. Just when this guy couldn’t get even more annoying, he likes reading the lowest of the low.

“I’d aim a little higher,” Blaine suggests with a slight whisper, his face scrunching up a bit as he leans in towards Adam.

“Whatever you say. Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it,” Adam says.

“Anytime,” Blaine lies.

The blonde collects his things and leaves Blaine alone at his circular table once again.

The next couple of hours go by fairly quickly for Blaine. Only two more people step in, both with easy questions and more internal eye rolling from Blaine.

He looks up at the clock to see that it’s 1:28, two minutes before his shift is supposed to end. He packs up his red pen and other items, ready to get back home and into his bed. His stomach is still a mess and he could use some peppermint tea.

Sebastian rushes in at 1:31 and sits down where Adam was before.

“So sorry Blaine! I didn’t mean to make you cover my shift and stay a minute over,” he says, gasping for breath.

Blaine smiles, “No worries. I never think you’re going to be on time for anything. Plus, it was only a minute. I’m going to get our of here, though.”

Sebastian laughs at the dig about his timeliness, or lack thereof.

“Let me make it all up to you. Come out tonight with us?” he asks.

Blaine’s lips form a tight line as he ponders this. He knows they’ll be likely going to West Hollywood to a few clubs and bars, where a ton of drinking will be involved.

“I don’t know, dude. I’m not really in the mood for that,” Blaine says. And it’s true. He isn’t in the mood for making a fool of himself, or picking up any guys.

“C’mon! You haven’t in awhile. Drinks are on me, slugger,” Sebastian replies.

At least if he does get drunk, he won’t be alone like he usually is. That makes it a little less pathetic. He could always go and not drink too much, but then he’d be completely bored and annoyed with the crowds.

“Where are you guys going?” Blaine asks as he gets up from his seat and pushes the chair in.

“The Abbey maybe. Plus a few other places if we see fit, but that’s our meeting place. You in?” Sebastian asks.

Blaine slings his bag over his shoulder, “Most likely. What time are we meeting?”

“Wanna grab food around nine and then head over once we’re done with dinner? I can meet you at your place” he suggests.

Blaine nods and replies, “Sounds good. Text me when you are headed my way.”

“Will do. See you soon killer!”

Blaine waves with a wiggle of his fingers and heads out the door. He looks at the time on his phone and is relieved that he has some time for a nap before he has to get ready.

He knows he should probably eat lunch, but nothing sounds appetizing. So when he gets home, he strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed. He flips on his TV and opens Gilmore Girls on Netflix.

This show was always sort of comforting and allowed his mind to focus on something other than his thoughts while he tried to get some rest.

Blaine laid on his stomach and got as comfortable as he could. He closed his eyes and focused on listening to the antics of Lorelai and Rory.

He was soon asleep.

Blaine didn’t set any alarm for the afternoon, so when he woke up and saw that it was 7 pm, he panicked.

He grabbed his phone, seeing a message from Sebastian wanting to confirm that he was still in for tonight. He shot him a response saying yes, and then looked at his missed calls.

1 Missed call from Mom.

Blaine sighed and contemplated waiting until tomorrow to call her back. But she hadn’t left a voicemail, not that she ever does (likely on purpose), and something could be wrong. Not that anything ever was, but there’s a first time for everything.

He didn’t have the best of relationships with his parents. When he came out, or rather was outed by his Mother after she read text messages on his cell phone, they tried to ignore the topic. If they didn’t discuss it, then their son wouldn’t be gay anymore. Eventually, thanks to all of the bullying and being beat up at the dance, they had to face the music. They expressed that he was choosing the harder path, and maybe if he got some “professional” help sooner rather than later, he could avoid the backlash that would inevitably happen. Sure, they let him transfer to Dalton but there wasn’t a day that went by that his father didn’t make him feel weak for being on medication.

He hit the call back button and waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?” his Mom answered.

“Hi Mom. It’s Blaine. I’m returning your phone call,” he says. He realizes it sounds a tad formal, but it isn’t like they have ever been on friendly terms.

“Oh, yes. We just wanted to know if you’d be coming home for Christmas, sweetie. You didn’t for Thanksgiving and we’d like to see you,” she says.

Blaine purposely didn’t go for Thanksgiving and opted to stay at his apartment by himself instead. The Holidays at the Andersons were always a big deal and involved him being interrogated by family. Winter break would be happening in about a month, and he really didn’t want to be home for two weeks.

She only asked about Christmas, though, not the full two weeks.

“I’m not sure, Mom. It’s kind of busy here.”

“Blaine, honey, we haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Is everyone going to be there?”

She clears her throat. “Well, of course. And they’d love to see you too.”

He knew better than to believe what she was saying. No one wanted to see him, his parents just didn’t want to have to answer as to why he was missing for another holiday.

“I doubt that.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Blaine. Look, I have to go. Your father and I are going out to dinner and drinks with Paul and his wife. But I’ll need an answer soon. We have to be sure we’re prepared.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. She didn’t mean that they had to be prepared for another guest, but what to say to everyone about him.

“Sure. I’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

“Okay. And before I go, Dad wants to know if everything else is going okay.”

His depression she meant.

“Yeah, tell him not to worry. I actually have to go now too. Love you, Mom.”

“Bye dear!”

Blaine ended the call and threw his phone onto his bed. He has a little less than two hours to get ready before the pretending begins.

He walks over to his closet, which is a mess. Shirts and pants are on the floor, and what clothes are on hangers are not organized in the slightest. He cringes a bit at it, but figures he’ll fix it another time. Maybe the same day he gets his life together. Maybe tomorrow.

He grabs a bright blue and red checkered button down and black pants that cut off at his ankle. Figuring he should put some effort into how he looks tonight, he decides on wearing a bowtie. He used to all the time, outside of school, but he had no motivation anymore.

Blaine jumps in the shower again, feeling a little sticky from his nap. He quickly washes and dries himself off. He wraps his towel around his waist and lays back in his bed.

Netflix asked him if he was still watching Gilmore Girls as it often did. He selected continue watching and rests back on his pillows. He had some time to spare, so he could fiddle with Temple Run and watch another episode.

Time passed quickly, and before he knew it Sebastian was texting him to let him know he was downstairs. With one more tweak to his bowtie and glance in the mirror, he grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and headed out the door.

“Lookin’ good Anderson!” Sebastian shouts as soon as he sees him.

Blaine wants to groan but he smiles instead. “Thanks Seb. Ready to go?”

“Sure thing. I just asked for Uber, so a car should be here soon for us. You okay with grabbing some pizza and beers before heading over to the bar? The rest said they’d meet us at some pizzeria down the block from it.”

Blaine nods. “Sounds good.”

“I like the bowtie. What’s with the wardrobe change?” Sebastian asks, his eyes traveling up the length of Blaine’s body.

“Stop checking me out, Seb! And I just felt like dressing up a little.”

“Hey, you look good. I’m not afraid to show it!”

Blaine shakes his head and thanks God the second the car shows up. The two boys hop in and as soon as the driver can pull out, they’re on their way.

The place is packed when they arrive after their late dinner. They get in line to be let in, and Blaine scans the small crowd that’s on their outside patio. There are a few small groups, but more of them are having one on one conversations. Usually the places Blaine goes to are mainly Gay men, but he is happy to see that this place has a lot of women hanging out too. Most of them have drinks in their hands, and he smiles internally at one who is nervously sloshing his around as he talks to who is probably a cute boy.

They finally make it in and Blaine is happy to know there is no cover charge. That probably means they’ll charge a ridiculous amount for their drinks and appetizers but he could deal.

As soon as they step foot in the place, they head straight for the bar. Blaine already knows what he wants- a Long Island Iced Tea. The amount of alcohol packed into one makes them an incredibly efficient way to get drunk.

The bartender makes his way over to them and Sebastian quickly announces drinks are on him. They all put in their orders and then wait.

Blaine leans against the counter and takes in his surroundings. The dance floor has a decent amount of people on it, although not as many as he expects in a place like this. It’s still fairly early in bar terms, though, so he’s sure it’ll fill up later.

A remix of “Pretty Girls” booms through the speakers just as his drink is placed in front of him. He brings the straw up to his lips and is happy to taste that it is quite strong. They may charge a bit for their drinks, but they don’t skimp.

Blaine purposely only ate about half of his dinner. When questioned, he said he had a heavy lunch. The truth was, he knew the alcohol would hit him quicker and harder later. That meant any pain he felt would lessen speedier.

“Woah there killer,” Sebastian says with a glance at Blaine’s nearly empty cup.

Blaine turns it to the side a little and jiggles the ice with a shrug, “I guess I was thirsty! I’m going to get another, you good?”

“Yes. And just be careful, I don’t want you puking on me later. Or whoever’s dick you’ll be sucking.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, “I won’t be sucking anything on anyone tonight.”

Sebastian laughs. “Hey, I see a table over there,” he nods at a corner of the room.

“Cool, wanna grab it? I’ll be over in a sec, as soon as my drink is ready.”

“Sure,” Seb answers and walks away, sipping the drink in his hand.

Blaine notices that the rest of their friends are already mingling. Jorge wiggles his fingers in Blaine’s direction and he waves back.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” the bartender announces. Blaine turns and grabs it with a “thanks.”

“Anytime, cutie,” the bartender says with a wink.

Blaine immediately blushes and drops his head bashfully.

“We have a shy one, do we?”

Blaine giggles. Honest to god giggles.

“Depends on who is asking.”

Oh no… the alcohol must be kicking in already. Blaine wouldn’t have normally said something like that.

“Me obviously. Save a dance for me, alright?”

Blaine nods and then turns back to survey the crowd. A minute passes before he notices Sebastian waving him over to the table.

“Oops, forgot you came over here Seb.”

Blaine slides into the booth and sets his drink on the table. As he drinks his cocktail, he remembers the last time he did so in public. He ended up lying on a friend’s bathroom floor, begging them to take away his phone so he wouldn’t text a guy something stupid. And then yelling at them to give it back to him, puke hardening on his shirt.

“Yeah, I could see that. Kevin wants to do tequila shots soon, you in?”

“You know it,” Blaine replies.

“Anyone catch your eye yet?” Sebastian asks him while nudging him in the shoulder.

Blaine lets out a quiet laugh and stares down at the wet circle his drink is leaving on the table. He runs his finger through it and answers, “Nope. No one. And not really looking for that. You know that!”

Sebastian wraps one arm around the back of the booth and sips his martini.

“You never know. Alcohol makes people do crazy things!” he says.

The two of them watch the crowd for a bit as they finish their drinks and chat. Every once in awhile, Sebastian would point out a cute guy and make a lewd comment about the stranger and Blaine.

“I’m just saying, it would probably fit pretty snugly,” Sebastian is saying just as their other friends walk over and slide into the booth.

“Uhhh do we even want to know what you’re talking about?” Kevin asks, darting his eyes between the two.

“No. Ignore this guy,” Blaine says with a gesture towards Sebastian.

Jorge is busy ordering tequila shots for them all when Blaine notices he’s definitely feeling the affects.

He stretches his jaw and then pokes his face. Yep, starting to numb.

“Alright, let’s do this! I’m not doing a body shot off of any of you, so let’s just lick our hands,” Jorge says. He licks the top of his hand and pours salt on it.

Each of them does the same and then knocks back a shot, quickly followed by sucking on the lime.

It burns down their throats and Sebastian coughs.

“Can’t handle it bud?” Jorge says mockingly.

“I don’t think he can. Maybe we should make him do another with us right now,” Blaine suggests.

Sebastian eyes him suspiciously. “Feeling happy already?”

Instead of defending himself, Blaine pours more salt on his hand, licks it and takes another shot.

“Dude! You could have waited for us,” Kevin shouts.

Blaine shrugs, “I’ll just have to do another with you guys.”

“Alright, that’ll work. If nothing, your drunk ass will amuse us,” Jorge says.

“Let’s do two more and then dance!” Blaine shouts over the music excitedly.

The boys agree and they throw them back twice more. The second time, Blaine forgoes the salt and lime.

He licks his lips, gathering the leftover tequila and smacks his lips together. He feels a pleasant buzz, smiling at how happy he feels for the first time in…well, since the last time he was drunk. So, last night.

“I’m ready to shake it!”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, “You’re such a dork. How will we ever get you laid?”

Blaine pushes him towards the edge of the booth. “Move please. I can’t get out with you there.”

Soon enough, he’s stumbling to the dance floor. For a bit, it’s just a little friendly dance circle amongst friends and a few like-minded strangers.

Blaine is currently seeing how low he can drop it with some girl named Annabelle who thinks he is just ‘darling.’ On one of his returns standing position, someone puts their hands on his hips and pull him closer to them.

“I like how you dance handsome,” someone whispers in his ear. He turns around to see a tall, chubby man with red hair and brown eyes.

“You’re a ginger!” Blaine says to him. The guy laughs and pulls Blaine closer to him again.

“And does that matter honey? Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

The man begins dancing, although grinding was probably a better definition, to a rap song Blaine doesn’t recognize. However, he quickly realizes that the guy has no rhythm and Blaine feels more like someone is just rubbing on him. Blaine takes a deep breath, the warm air from the bodies already making it difficult to breathe. The man’s odor quickly fills his nostrils. He smells of sweat and alcohol, and Blaine can feel his stomach poking against him.

Blaine starts to pull away but the guy won’t loosen his grip. His fingers are planted firmly on his hips, digging in to keep Blaine close.

“Where are you going? We just got started,” he says desperately, just as his left hand slips to Blaine’s ass and squeezes hard.

The hazel-eyed man jumps at the touch and manages to take a few steps back.

“I think I’m going to head back to my friends. Thanks for the dance though!” Blaine says as politely as he can.

The guy reaches out again, but his hand is smacked away. “He said back off buddy.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up as soon as he sees who it is, and he starts wondering if he’s hallucinating this. The touchy guy rolls his eyes and walks away, mumbling something about Blaine not being worth this.

Standing right in front of him, in very tight straight-legged dark wash jeans and a black Henley, is the beautiful man from last night. Blaine’s eyes roam his entire body in a few seconds. He can’t help it, with his toned arms, muscle slightly showing through the thin material as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. His chest is next on Blaine’s list, the top two buttons undone, giving him a glorious view of his soft skin. Or what Blaine imagined was soft. It sure looked soft. _I bet he won’t mind if I just run my tongue along his collarbone to test my theory._ Blaine can’t see behind him, but he imagines that his ass looks just as wonderful.

He shakes his head to rid himself of these insane thoughts. “Barista?” he asks at the man who saved him from the sweaty, smelly, and much too forward guy he was dancing with.

The man lets out a high-pitched giggle, which Blaine found so incredibly adorable. He almost said that out loud.

“My name is Kurt, but you can call me whatever you want gorgeous,” he says with a smirk.

Blaine groans, “Ugh, sorry I keep forgetting your name.”

He stares at Kurt as though he’s going to disappear into thin air. “I’m not imagining you am I?”

“Nope, very much real. So do you want to continue dancing or would you like a drink?”

“Umm, I don’t think the dancing was going so well for me. Drink?”

Kurt nods before resting the palm of his hand on the small of Blaine’s back, almost protectively Blaine notes. His body tightens in response, and he gets a worried look from Kurt.

“Sorry, just surprised me is all.”

“No, don’t apologize. I touched you without warning,” Kurt replies kindly. Blaine catches his eyes and smiles at the genuine concern that’s in them. He nods as if to say he’s okay.

They’re standing there staring at each other, smiles on both of their faces.

“God you two need help,” Sebastian blurts as he shoves a drink in each of their hands.

“I got you your regular Blaine. And Kurt the same. Don’t worry, I didn’t drug them. See you later. Be safe,” he says and walks towards the dance floor.

Blaine catches Kurt staring down at his drink and says, “He really didn’t drug it if you’re concerned.”

“Oh, no, no,” Kurt responds quickly. He tentatively takes a sip. “Long Island. Good choice. Dangerous though,” he adds.

“Yeah, they’ve been know to be,” Blaine says. Really, Blaine? That’s all you can come up with?

“Want to sit?” Kurt asks.

“Sure, my friends and I have a booth.”

The pair walk over to the table Blaine and his friends has previously been sitting. He stumbles a bit on his way, but Kurt is there to steady him each time.

No one is at the table once they make it there, but jackets had been left to claim it.

Blaine slides in, careful not to spill his drink on himself. Kurt does the same and is sure to scoot in as close to Blaine as possible. Their thighs are touching, and Blaine realizes that Kurt smells delicious, although in his drunken state he can’t pinpoint what it smells similar to just yet.

When he looks up at Kurt, his face is much closer than it ever has been and he can make out the freckles on his face.

“Freckles,” he blurts out, overwhelmed by Kurt’s warmth and intense stare. A small smile graces his lips and he replies, “You’re seriously the cutest thing in the world. Yes, I have freckles.”

His eyes dart over Blaine’s face, taking him in, as if he’s trying to pinpoint something. Something that’s off, much like last night in the coffee shop. “You okay?”

“Not cute,” Blaine mumbles.

Before Kurt could point out that that wasn’t what he asked, Blaine’s friends made their way over.

“What our friend means to say, is you’re hot and he would like to take you to the nearest dark corner and dry hump you,” Kevin says as he sits down on Blaine’s other side.

“No! That is _not_ what I meant Kev,” Blaine says.

“That’s not what I meant, Kurt” Blaine pouts worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t sweetie.”

“Man, it’s weird seeing you sitting with another guy Blaine,” Jorge says.

“Uh, why would that be weird?” Kurt questions. Then he looks back at Blaine, “You are gay right? I mean, I just assumed since you’re here. Maybe I’m wrong-“

“Ohh no no, he is definitely into dick. Not what I meant,” Jorge slurs, cutting off Kurt’s nervous ramble.

“What our good friend means, is that he doesn’t usually hit on anyone. Or come out of his apartment, actually,” Sebastian says and sits next to Kurt.

“You don’t come out often?” Kurt asks.

Blaine shakes his head and then takes another gulp of his drink so he doesn’t have to answer any more questions. He’s sick of defending himself.

Kurt doesn’t ask another question, though. Rather, he wraps an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, effectively pulling him closer. He leans in and whispers in his ear, soft lips brushing Blaine’s ear, making his hair stand on the back of his neck, “I guess I’ll just have to show you a good time then.”


End file.
